Alternate Existance
by lovely-narcissa
Summary: Mosdranna descovers someone who will will reveal her past, reveal his future and question everything they ever believed. Romanax10thDctr 4thDctr


**A/N:**

**this is my first Who Fic! Woop! Romana/the Doctor (4th & 10th) !!!**

**ly x**

If the sleet had not been quite so wet, nor the gusting wind quite so cold, or the evening quite so late or even had collars not been turned up quite so far, the hurrying company of Oxford Street, London, may have noticed the sudden appearance of a door.

This door looked like any other door. It was made of wood, and had a small brass plate, declaring it was number 74b. It also had a small window, made of fogged glass and a rather battered brass door knob, which had anyone of those hurrying, rather cold people turned, would have found solidly locked. Probably

The door stood there for about a minuet, as though waiting for something, when suddenly it opened, revealing the face of a small, blonde woman, who petite face stared out onto the awful day and ant like humans with a little distaste. Nether the less, after disappearing momentarily, the face- quickly followed by the body- of the woman slipped out onto the street, this time adorned with a multicoloured stripy scarf, fury ear warmers and a matching pair of gloves.

Apart from the unusual colour choice of woollies, the woman was overall rather odd looking. She was short- maybe just 5 foot and a few inches and wore a long red trench coat and black skinny trousers. If anyone had been able to see her tee shirt, they would have found it adorned with the slogan- "Chameleon Circuit" and an odd looking symbol below it. Most peculiar of all, maybe was her features. She was very pretty, with a small, slightly up-turned nose and a small showering of freckles. Her hair- on closer inspection- would be found to have a slight purple tint, and if she was asked, she would claim it perfectly natural, which it was. But that was not by far the oddest thing, for that was her eyes. They were large, framed by thick, black lashes and perfectly average looking apart from her irises, which seemed to change colour in a wibbly wobbly way from aqua to purple. The girl herself hoped rather that no one would notice this as she had forgotten to purchase new contact lenses.

The woman walked along the street, weaving in and out of commuters, carol singers and last minuet shoppers staring with little interest at all the festive decorations, laughing inwardly at the primitive displays and mundane lights. She gazed into shop windows wondering how much human money she had on her person and whether she should buy herself another scarf when she stopped- just like that in the middle of the path. Several people behind slammed into her, yelling cursing and making obscene gestures, but she did not notice. Entranced she walked towards the object, its faded blue paint pealing in places and its old looking notice slightly ripped. She stared at the police box, wondering about the reality of the situation. Slowly she reached out and pressed one, small palm against its cool blueness. Her eyes widened in realisation. It was real. Quickly she walked its circumference, never letting her hand deviate from the old wood. She paused just before she got back to the front again, staring at it in wonder. It _couldn't _be. These police boxes had been out of service since the ham sixties. There was no way on Gallifrey- or now, she supposed, Earth- that there would be one just randomly standing at the side of the road in Oxford Street! Gently she pressed the door. It didn't open. Well, she thought, what did I expect? Sighing she stared at it for another few minuets, willing the doors to open, willing for Him to appear.

But alas, no such luck. Dejectedly she turned away from the box and headed half heartedly into the coffee shop it stood outside.

Coffee was one of the few things the woman actually _liked _about Earth. Other than that, she found it rather dull. Plus there was a lot of rain, and water made her hair go frizzy. She stepped into the shop, smiling slightly at the warm gust of air the vents overhead thrust onto her.

It was a fairly average coffee shop, not particularly big, with around twenty five tables. The counter at one end of the shop partially hid a bored looking teenage girl, who had her rather large nose buried in a black covered book. The woman wondered over to her, breathing in the wonderful smell of ground coffee and impatiently waited for her to put the book down. With an over exaggerated sigh the teen marked her place with a saccharin packet and looked at the blonde woman.

"What would y'a like?" she asked in a drawling South East London accent.

The woman selected a coffee and waited for the girl to pour it.

"You're weird lookin' ain't ya?"

The woman looked up sharply, her young, soft features becoming hard and steely.

"What's your point? You have a big nose." She retorted, smirking slightly. Carelessly she scattered a few coins on the counter and strutted towards a table by the window.

She selected one in the corner and placed her cup down, spilling a little of its contents. She heard the cashier give a snort of laughter but decided to ignore it. Her anger was not worth wasting on humans.

After clearing the spilt liquid, the woman sat down, picking up the cup and sipping its bitter contents. She sat there for a moment, contemplating the blue box, a corner of which she could see through the large window.

Suddenly a voice behind her made her jump, causing her to spill more of her coffee and scald herself. Jumping up and cursing in pain she whipped around to yell at the culprit.

He was a tall man, with short, brown, spiky hair. Alarmed looking brown eyes peered at her out of a good looking, well natured face. He held his large, rough hands either side of his face in a surrender pose, as though she were about to shoot him. He wore a brown pin striped suit and a worn brown trench coat, far tattier and comfy looking than her own. His blue shirt hung untidily out of his trousers and his tie hung loosely around his neck and despite his somewhat messy and disheveled appearance, the woman immediately drawn to him and captivated in his warm glow.

The man must have seen her sharp features soften because he cautiously lowered his hands.

"Um hi," he said gushingly "are you using that sugar?" He pointed to the assortment of sweetners on the woman's table before hurriedly withdrawing his hand and scratching his right ear.

"Oh, no I'm not. Which one do you want?" She turned, wringing her burned hand and reaching for the bowl with the other. Her right hovered over each one assessing which she thought he would prefer.

"White, please. Not the artificial stuff. Good wholesome calorie filled white sugar."

The woman selected the appropriate packet and handed it to him. He grinned.

"Thanks! Sorry about the coffee by the way." He smiled, showing a set of perfect white teeth.

"No problemo." She smiled back.

The couple stood there for a moment, the atmosphere becoming increasingly awkward.

"Er, I'll just, er go…" the man said, his grin faltering. He backed away reseating himself at the table behind, continually scratching his ear.

Odd. Thought the woman, and she moved round the other side of the table- the side that wasn't splashed with coffee, to primarily get a better view of him.

The woman didn't know how long she sat there for, but it wasn't less than half an hour until the man suddenly turned round in his seat and stared intently at her, the paper he had apparently been reading lying forgotten on the table.

"What's you name?" He asked, cocking his head to one side.

"Mosdranna." Said the woman, now known to be Mosdranna.

A spark of recognition ignited in the man's timeless eyes, but he flicked it away in cocky disbelief.

"Mosdranna." he repeated, as if testing it on his tongue. It wasn't a question, but an asertation.

"Yes," she replied bluntly.

"What a lovely name…an unusual one…" He trailed off his eyes drifting to the window and the diminishing crowd beyond. Mosdranna didn't know what the time was, but guessed that it must be approaching mid night.

"What about you?"

"Huh?" the man looked up.

"What about you?" Mosdranna said again. "What is your name?"

"Me? Oh my name isn't important." He smiled briefly but let it drop, a sad expression drifting over his features.

"Please tell me?" She asked, leaning over the table towards him, smiling encouragingly, "Please?"

The man seemed to contemplate for a second before letting out the breath he had not realized he was holding.

"The Doctor. Just The Doctor."

Mosdranna let out a gasp and fell off her chair. It was _Him!_

"It's _You_!" she exclaimed, scrabbling up and ungraciously sitting herself back on he chair. She gaped at him, stunned.

"It's YOU!" She cried again, a mixture of joy and confusion filling her brain.

"erm, yes, it's me…" He repeated, raising one eyebrow. "Is that good?"

"Yea…Yeahh…" She gaped, her jaw handing open in amazement. Suddenly bewilderment struck her and she narrowed her eyes.

"But you're supposed to be dead!"

The Doctor's raised eyebrow rose higher.

"I am?" He started to examine her hands, checking for deadness.

"Yeah!"

"really?"

"Yeah!"

"You sure?"

"Yup!"

"Positive?"

"YES!"

"Oh. Well that's interesting then."

Mosdranna looked at him expectantly.

"You're a Time Lord." He stated matter-of-factly.

"Time _Lady_ actually, but yes. What else would I …?"

"NO!" the Doctor stood up so suddenly that the table leapt forward and his chair toppled over.

"What the-?" Mosdranna stared at him as if he were insane.

"You shouldn't be here!"

"Wh…"

The Doctor interrupted, his authoritative voice filled with pain. He started pacing.

"Mosdranna, Mosdranna, Mosdranna!" He chanted as if trying to dislodge a memory.

Suddenly he turned on the balls of his feet to look her straight in the eye.

"Whats that short for? He questioned.

Mosdranna raised one eyebrow incredulously

"Mosdrannadvoratrelundar"

The Doctor blinked his brown orbs wide.

"Say that again, slowly and pronounce the 'lundar' bit 'lundar'"

Mosdranna repeated her name as instructed.

"Oh holy…"

He bent down and picked up his fallen chair, dusting it off and sitting down again.

Then suddenly he jumped up yet again and placed his hands on Mosdranna's shoulders.

"Mosdranna…" He asked slowly, looking into her eyes. "Tell me who your mother is."

"W-why?" She questioned cautiously.

The Doctor threw back his head in a disparing motion, slapping his face with his right hand, before bringing his face level with the young woman's once more.

"please, just tell me" he said through gritted teeth. Mosdranna was surprised to see the glint of forming tears in his pleading eyes.

"Romanadvoratrelundar"


End file.
